Wraith
by The Brown-ie
Summary: Neil and Lyle keep playing the same stupid game.


Summary: Pre-Katharon/Pre-CB Lyle reflects on his life. It could be **that** graveyard scene or not. Reviews and constructive criticisms are welcome. Thank you.

**Wraith**

_By Kimbunny_

The spring rains had come, enveloping all in white fog and slate grey sky. The cherubs wept openly with joy; the rain streaming down their round-cheeks and over their smiling lips. Today, they received a visitor: A lone, lanky figure wove in between the plots, passing the stone angels without a second glance.

The man came to an abrupt stop. While the grave was somewhat worn from when he had last seen it, with a fresh crack sprouting from the base like a vine, but he took no note of it. The man simply stood there, holding tightly onto a cigarette as a thin tendril of smoke snaked from underneath his black umbrella. Ash fell onto his lapel; tiny red ring seared the flesh between his fingers. The pain was a nuisance, but not as troublesome as the bouquet lying at his feet.

Sighing, Lyle flicked his wasted cigarette away. He stooped down and neatly arranged his brother's offering with his own. They were white lilies with crisp green stalks, wrapped in fine white paper and tinted cellophane, and tied off with what he suspected to be a silk ribbon. Lyle laughed. He had bought his from a nun hawking haphazard bouquets at the entrance. Her stained, weathered fingers unfurled slowly as she accepted his money, whisper-blessings spilling from her cracked lips.

The wind whipped up, tossing his trench coat behind him like a hawk's tail. Lyle struggled to draw his collar high on his neck as he rose to his feet. Neil was like these winds: a welcomed nuisance. But to them, to his parents and to Amy, Neil was their forever champion. Death cemented his perfection in their memories.

But even then, they did not know nor would they ever know how painfully human their Neil had been. They did not know how raw and coarse their son could be. Especially when he kept Lyle awake at night. He would wait until he thought Lyle was asleep. He would call for him in a small, cautious voice, but Lyle never replied, lying still and uneasy in his own bed. Then, it would start: Neil mumbled their names over and over in a heated mantra, the sound of his legs moving clumsily between the sheets overhead until he released a sigh and lay still. At the time, Lyle thought to endure since they always shared intimate quarters. He shook his head, tossing such unpleasant memories aside. But as his gaze fell on Neil's bouquet their link, though fragile and small, had been restored:

She had been so blackened that he did not know it was their sister's body until the medic confirmed her dental records. Dust and concrete coated Amy's charred form, making her like a strange sculpture displayed on white cotton sheets. Neither looked away. What transfixed them; what they wanted to deny was that** this** was their once chatty little sister.

And as they lined up along the plots, Lyle could only think of how stark their silhouettes looked against the white caskets. He started when the priest motioned for them to come forward. Lyle plucked up his handful of soil, tossed it and fell back in line. Everyone waited on Neil but he stood firm, tears dripping from the ridges of his taunt mouth. Embarrassed, Lyle rush forward awkwardly and pitched another quickly fistful of soil. They both watched as they buried their family; the thud of dirt kept in time with Neil's sobbing. He tried to take hold of his brother's hand but Neil snatched it away.

The next day Lyle announced he would return to school. He remembered how he looked through the fog-rimmed window at his brother and their Auntie. Neil held onto his old coat-sleeve, looking a bit more childish than he ought to be. But above all things, he knew that he would not compete with Neil's anguish. He waved to them as the train hummed to life on its tracks. Auntie flapped furiously, her stubby legs hobbling along side him until the train picked up speed and pulled away. Lyle waited for the conductor to check his ticket before retrieving the cigarette behind his ear. He inhaled deeply, smoking seeping from his nostrils, obscuring a rapidly shrinking Neil on the horizon.

Then, he sneezed.

Lyle started and began to feel the wind at his back and the ground under his leaden feet. He shrewdly looked over his shoulder at a lone tree. Though its shadow followed its every wind-tossed movement, Lyle noted that some of its stranger branches held still. He sighed a second time, hot breath white and billowing; a tumbled rush of relief and agitation. Lyle thought it tedious to play these games but he decided to participate just a bit longer. So, he plucked another cigarette from his front pocket and placed it in his the crook of his mouth. The lighter's small flame was warm against his palm and cheek, as he shielded it from the outside.

In the howling wind, he heard the soft, sloshing steps across the grass. Lyle watched through the cracks of his fingers as his brother trudge on like wraith through the mist. Neil tramped on and on until Lyle's smoke swallowed him whole and he was gone. Holding the cigarette between his now-smiling lips, Lyle inhaled until he was full; his eyes clouded and his ears plugged with a gloriously suffocating haze.


End file.
